Family
by Light1
Summary: Vorador takes Kain into the mansion much to Kain's surprise. But why does he help him?


**Family**

Disclaimer: Legacy of Kain belongs to Edios and Crystal dynamics, they are not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have a burning need to create.

Rating: PG-13 – For mild references to violence and Yaoi.

Part: One of One

Set: post Blood omen.

Authoressnote: Why would he help him?

**Family**

{Vorador}

Sometimes even when one knows that an action is the wrong one, one still does it and cannot when asked say why they acted thus. I have found myself in this situation twice as of late. The first was when a bedraggled fledgling appeared before me, requesting advice and also if it was my whim to do so, aid. I had no reason to help this fledgling, in fact the situation should have been quiet the opposite as I had every reason to cause him harm. I had been planning on destroying him, as he had entered my home in such a crass manner and further more had killed a great many of my own fledglings yet when he that dinning chamber entered I found I could not. He was smaller than I had thought from my communications to my fledglings and the small rumours I had heard; and he appeared tired and somewhat battered by his journey so far. I found myself looking at him and all feelings of anger were replaced by a sudden want to protect him as if he were my own. But I am not a man ruled by my emotions, I did not harm him but nor did I offer him too much. Instead I answered his questions and offered him a glass as I would any guest in my home.

However when I was finished speaking and he stood to leave, I found myself standing and taking the ring I had made for Janos from my hand and holding it out to him. I had made that ring centuries ago, when I myself was little more than a fledgling. For many years my sire had been attempting to teach me the magic of teleportation with some small and rather pathetic results and so as a result I had made the ring. I had placed my blood in the ring and my sire had imbued it with magic; it would when used correctly summon me to the wearer. I had made it for Janos' hand as he was the only one I would willingly drop everything for and go to. Yet there I was holding it out to a vagabond fledgling that had shown no respect for me or my property and had murdered those of my blood with very little difficulty. Why was I helping him? I suppose I could explain it away as self-preservation. This fledgling was strong almost freakishly so for one so young. If he was so powerful now what would he be capable of in a few decades with a little guidance and instruction. It would be safer to keep such a creature under my control; maybe even if fortune smiled upon me I would be able to nudge him in the direction of my enemies. At least those were my thoughts until recently. For now I have seen how he reacts when someone tries to control him. Yet even though I know and understand how dangerous he is I still allowed him inside that was the second time I acted without being able to say why.

It was the start of the rainy season, cold and damp when he had appeared again. He was bedraggled and bloody. His clothing was torn and his armour dented. He appeared tired and somewhat more jaded than when I had last spoken to him. I had brought him through the mansion in a more civilised way than he had previously entered. It was in that quiet walk that I started to notice small strange things about him. He smelt familure, something on him made me think of times long past. Times when vampires ruled the skies and my sire kept my bed warm. We entered one of the many rooms of my home, chairs littered the little room around a well kept fire, and I saw the fledgling behind me smile. I invited him to sit and watched him settle into one of the large chairs, smiling to myself at the apparent pleasure he took in being warm again after being so cold. We spoke some that night and I learnt a little about him, although to be brutally honest what I learned only confused me more and I fell silent to ponder on what he had said. He claimed to be only months old, and that struck me as odd. For no vampire fledgling could survive alone at such an early age. It took years sometimes even a decade before we could live alone, yet here he was sipping at warm blood saying he had only just this week seen the end of his second month as a vampire. I thought he could not surprise me further but I was wrong when he claimed to have no sire, at first I thought it was just the words of an angry abandoned fledgling but there was that scent on him. The smell was getting stronger the warmer the room became, and I found myself almost luxuriating in it, he smelt of the winged ones, his blood smelt like that of an ancient, it was a strange coincidence and I could little help myself from inhaling sharply at the pang of loneliness and loss the smell brought out in me.

A slight sound suddenly snapped me from my thoughts and I realised I had been silent for a long time. I looked to my guest ready to make apologies for my rudeness but found him sleeping. He was curled in the chair, his head resting on his knees, blood-soaked hair hanging limp in his face. I felt myself smile, for all his power and bravado he was still only a fledgling. I stood and walked to him; a hand on his shoulder jerked him from his sleep and he glared at me, his eyes dull and unfocused.

"Come we will find you a bed child." I spoke softly as I would to an injured animal, he grumbled something about me calling him child which made me laugh as I helped him stand and walk from the small room into the hallways. We found a room a little way from my own and I pushed him inside, with offerings of fire wood and fresh blood, he mumbled something that I couldn't understand no matter how good my hearing, before unbuckling what little armour he still wore, letting it clatter to the floor, his shirt was torn under the metal and found a place on the floor also. I smirked at him watching as his boots joined the small pile of tattered clothes and dented armour. He glared at me once more for good measure before literally collapsing on the bed. I shook my head still smiling to myself; I couldn't remember being that young but I suppose I must have been. I entered the room fully and lifted the pile he had left; the shirt went in the bin and the armour I sent down to the basement for repairs. I made a mental note to have clothing made for him and a wash wouldn't have hurt him either. For while water burns us there are other liquids that do not. Closing the shades over the window I glanced at him and sighed before moving over to the bed, dragging the comforter up over him, it would become bitterly cold without a fire in here. I used the moment to glance over him, he had a lot of blood on him and it struck in the back of my mind that he could still be hurt, but my concern was unfounded, he seemed to be fine other than bitterly exhausted. I walked to the doorway and stopped.

What the hell was I doing? I was treating this half mad, powerful, murderous creature as if he was one of my own. What on Nosgoth had come over me? I had in the past taken in fledglings that were not my own but I had always been rather specific as to their nature. Any I did not think would do well and obey easily were killed. This one should have died at my claws the minuet he showed up at my doorstep, yet here I was giving him a bed, taking care of him the way a mother would her child. What was I doing? Then I noticed that smell again, and glancing down at my hands I saw his blood on my claws, absently I lifted one and licked it clean. I could taste power, the magic of the pillars ran strongly in his blood, but that did not surprise me, I could recognise a pillar guardian easily. But something else in his blood made my head spin. I wobbled on my feet and shocked had to stumble to a chair. What was going on here? I flicked my tongue out again to taste, just to make sure. The taste was the same. Exactly the same, there was a strange spice to the blood that I took to be his own unique taste but the undercurrent was exactly the same as . . .

Janos. My sire.

This fledgling's blood was similar to my own, my own blood had a rough edged taste to it that was my own flavour but underneath that there was a soft, subtle flavour that was Janos. I felt my hands start to shake, Janos was dead, long dead, years ago; yet here walked one with Janos' flavour in his blood. What on Nosgoth was he?

**End**


End file.
